


2019 Good Omens Winter Holiday Prompts

by N0nb1narydemon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is a pine tree, Holiday prompts, Mistletoe, Other, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N0nb1narydemon/pseuds/N0nb1narydemon
Summary: An attempt at Drawlight's 2019 holiday prompt challenge.The plan is to do them all and have them all connect. We shall see if that happens.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 75





	1. Mistletoe

It's December 1st 2019. There's a crisp crunching of leaves underfoot, and wind whispering softly through evergreen branches. Here and there, a bird sings it's farewell to summer. Unfortunately, none of this is being suitably appreciated by the mismatched (or perfectly matched, as these things often go) pair walking along one of the trails of the South Downs National Park. 

"We should stay." 

"Fancy a bit of star gazing, dear? I'm in favor, of course, but we didn't bring the picnic blanket-"

"Not… Not here, I mean yes we should do that, good idea, but I mean here," he gestures broadly, as though that should clarify somehow, "In the South Downs. The cottage, the town, and all that." 

"My dear, it's been a lovely two weeks and you know I would love to come back here again with you, but I really do need to check on the shop. What if there's been a break in? Or flooding? Or-"

"Anathema would have called if anything happened to your shop, angel, but I meant-" 

"Oh, I suppose you're right about that, but even so I do miss the books. I've already read through the ones I brought with for the trip twice while you slept at night."

"So I'll drive you into London in the morning, you open the shop, switch out whichever books you want to read, we get dinner, and head back here in the evening." 

"Isn't that quite a long drive, dear? We would be spending several hours of the day on the road with only a few days left of our holiday." 

"So? I like driving, you secretly like my driving-"

"I do NOT-"

"-and it's not like you ever had predictable hours anyway, so who's to care if some days we stop on the way for breakfast or you close up early for dinner, or just don't open some days? That's practically the same hours you keep anyway." 

Aziraphale was quiet for several moments. "Crowley, are you… my dear, you don't just mean tomorrow, do you?" 

"It's not like… I mean, it won't exactly be a waste of petrol since I don't put fuel in Mary anyway, and I haven't been to my flat since Armageddidn't except to water the plants,"

Aziraphale was staring at him now, and Crowley found himself unable to stop rambling through justifications. 

"The cottage we've been staying in has a decent enough garden I could transplant some of them into, and there's plenty of space inside for the houseplants and we could build bookshelves for all your first editions-" 

"My dear, the- the cottage isn't even for sale-" 

"Mmh, well, not yet anyway. When I was booking it, the travel agent sort of mentioned the owner was thinking of selling." 

"How long have you been considering this?" 

"...Couple weeks... Few months… not sure, does it matter?" 

They came to a stop, or rather Aziraphale did, and Crowley followed suit when he realized the angel wasn't beside him anymore.

"Crowley, my dear, why didn't you say anything?" 

Crowley heaves a long, sigh that could easily be mistaken for a groan "Didn't want to go too fast, is all. We've only been together in an official capacity since August-" 

"Oh, pish-posh," Aziraphale interjected, graciously choosing to ignore Crowley mockingly repeating the words as he continued, instead stepping into his space and taking both of his hands. "We may have skirted around calling them such due to imminent threat from our respective former sides, my dear, but you and I both know those weekly check-ins we started in 1968 were dates. And besides that, Crowley, you don't- You don't have to worry about going too fast anymore. I am with you, Anthony J Crowley. I've caught up, and I have no plans to slow down." 

The demon, for one, was blushing furiously. "Ngk, yeah, alright, well," he said, stepping close to rest his forehead on Aziraphale's shoulder, and snaking his arms around the angel's neck. Aziraphale's arms found their way around Crowley's middle with practiced ease. "What do you think, then? I mean, it- it doesn't have to be  _ that _ cottage, or any cottage really, we could go anywhere or stay in London, or we could wait a while longer if you're not ready to move in together-" Aziraphale was laughing now, but it was a laugh full of delight. 

"Crowley. My love, listen. We have already moved in together, dear, we just hadn't called it such. You said it yourself, you've only gone back to your flat to water your plants. It only makes sense to consolidate our spaces officially, as it were. And you know, I think you are absolutely correct. The cottage is perfect." 

Crowley leaned back just far enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes, glancing around briefly before removing his ever-present sunglasses. 

"You sure?" 

"Absolutely- completely- utterly- unquestionably so, my love," he said, placing kisses on Crowley's lips at every pause. 

"Right. Well. That's alright, then," Crowley returned, before leaning in for another kiss. This one didn't end for quite a while. 

Now, it may be coincidence, or it may have been a touch of holiday magic, but high up above where our two supernatural lovers have stopped to snog one long, sturdy branch reaches for the sky, a bundle of leaves and white berries, a pristine new growth of mistletoe, glisten in the light of the setting sun. 


	2. Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *careens in on two wheels* IT'S STILL DECEMBER SECOND IN SEVERAL TIME ZONES, OKAY? 
> 
> OKAY.

December 2nd, 2019. 

It had been a lovely day, really. One Aziraphale found himself thinking he wouldn't mind repeating for many, many days to come. 

For breakfast, they had stopped in a town in between the South Downs and London. By the time they got back into the Bentley and continued on their way north, the townspeople had gotten together and, quite spontaneously, felt inspired to update the spelling to something more tasteful, though said townspeople weren't quite sure what the difference was between Crawley and Crowley. 

Around ten, Crowley had parked in his usual (completely illegal) spot in front of the bookshop. The drive from the cottage to Soho would have taken any human anywhere from an hour fifteen to two hours depending on traffic, but the Original Speed Demon managed the drive in just over half an hour. Not a bad commute at all, for two supernatural entities for whom things like schedules and regular operating hours were really just whimsy. 

"Right," Crowley said as they both paused just inside the door, "You have yourself a good morning, do your bookshoppy thing, I'll be around. Probably check in on the plants, give them a bit of a reminder to stay vigilant." He said with a barely noticeable wink just before reaching for the door to leave. 

"Yes, of course my dear, enjoy your day. Oh! Before you go…" 

Crowley turned back around with a  _ hm? _ expecting the angel to make a suggestion for the time or location of lunch, but found himself instead delighted by the surprise of a light but very warm kiss. He leaned into it, both hands cupping Aziraphale's face as the angel's own hands wound around Crowley's middle and pulled him close. 

It was a thrilling thing, standing right in front of the shop doors, unconcerned at who may look through the unshuttered windows and see them here, wrapped up in each other, kissing goodbye for the morning as though they were kissing hello after years apart. 

When Crowley came back around to take Aziraphale to lunch it was much the same, as well as for dinner. If parting several times throughout the day resulted in getting kissed like that every time they came back together, Crowley thought, he could get very well used to this new arrangement. They ate dinner at the Union Street Cafe, and were on the road back to the South Downs by seven o'clock. As they passed through the newly redesignated town of Crowley, snow began to come down in earnest. 

"Strange, not supposed to snow today." 

"Is that so?" 

"Nah, I checked. Supposed to be clear all week." 

"Fancy that," Aziraphale said. seeming entirely too unconcerned by the snow, which was getting heavier by the minute. "Do you suppose we should pull over until it passes?" he asked, but Crowley shook his head. 

"Mmmmmno, it'll be fine. I'll slow up a bit, though." 

Ten minutes later, before they'd even made it as far as Muddleswood, the two supernatural entities found themselves quite stuck alongside the road, the snow piling up quickly and trapping Mary's wheels in an icy grip. 

"You can say it." 

"Say what, my dearest?" 

"You can say you told me so. Should have stopped in the last town, got a hotel for the night or sat in a pub til the weather passed. Should have stayed in-" 

Crowley, having settled himself in for a healthy bout of bickering, was quite surprised to find himself hauled quite abruptly out of the driver's seat and into the passenger seat, facing backwards and straddling the lap of its usual occupant, his mouth full of said occupant's tongue. Well. There were worse ways to kill time while snowed in. His shock at the sudden turn of events barely lasted a second, and he wasted no time catching up to Aziraphale's enthusiasm. 

An hour later found them in the same position, though with several articles of their clothing miraculously folded in the back seat, out of the way of certain activities which had left them both panting and trembling in the aftershocks of their spontaneous lovemaking. At some point since, Aziraphale had summoned a thick, soft, tartan blanket from the firmament to wrap around them both. 

"Angel," Crowley said, the word slightly muffled from where he spoke it into the side of Aziraphale's neck, not yet ready to lift his head from the angel's shoulder. 

"Yes, my love?" Aziraphale answered, continuing to run his hand slowly up and down Crowley's back. 

"Are you gonna fuck me like that every time we go into town?" he asked, leaning back so he could look Aziraphale in the eyes. 

"I should think I will usually prefer to get home first, but I see no reason why we shouldn't make love every night." he said, doing up the buttons of his shirt and retying his bow tie. Crowley broke into a bright smile, one Aziraphale loved seeing and had been delighted to see a great deal more often since the world hadn't ended. 

"Have I told you how much I love you today, angel?" he asked, cleaning up the mess he had left between them and manifesting his clothes back onto his body. 

"Four times, actually, but do feel free to say it again, dear," the angel answered with a beatific smile of his own. "Looks like the snow is clearing up, by the by, so we should get back on the road," he said, giving Crowley's ass a playful slap before lifting him out of his lap and placing him back into his own seat. 

Crowley decided not to acknowledge his undignified yelp he had made at the quick succession slap and relocation, instead choosing to be indignant at the suddenly perfectly clear roads. 

"Aziraphale, tell me you didn't just create and then subsequently banish a snow storm just so you could give me a good buggering." 

"Crowley, my dear!" he said, in his most affronted tone, "I cannot believe you would ask me to lie to you like that. Now if you would drive the car please, I would like you to return the favor once we're home." 

Crowley didn't say anything more, as he was now quite focused on returning them to the cottage as quickly as demonically possible, and trying not to be too giddy about the implications of the word "home." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is a bastard, but we love that about him.


	3. Nutcracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love can be displayed in many ways.

December 3rd, 2019.

  
  
  


_ CRUNCH _

  
  
  


_ CRUNCH _

  
  
  
  


_ CRUNCH _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ CRU- _

"Crowley,  _ my dear _ ," Aziraphale said, looking up from his book, his irritability palpable enough that the nutcracker in his aforementioned dear's hand saw fit to cease with its noise making. 

Crowley found himself wondering how it was possible to fit so much of both love and malice into a single word. "Yessss, angel?" he asked, laying the adoration on thick. 

This was not an unfamiliar situation, even if the exact vehicle of Crowley's wiling today was a new one. If asked, he probably couldn't explain why he loved pissing Aziraphale off so much. Perhaps it was because seeing Aziraphale getting right tetchy was one of the many things Crowley loved about him. Perhaps it was because Aziraphale wasn't the only one who could be a bastard when the mood suited him. I will tell you though, dear reader, it's something a fair bit simpler than that. Many in long term, comfortable, happy relationships often find themselves in the headspace of  _ I love this person so much, I have  _ **_got_ ** _ to bother them _ . Crowley is simply settling into that comfort, delighting in finding and pushing Aziraphale's buttons, and in the knowledge that he knows exactly which buttons to leave alone entirely and which can be poked and prodded until the angel is teetering on the edge of being properly annoyed, at which point the troublesome demon will make his angel a cup of tea, or a mug of cocoa, or (if he misjudged the balance between tetchy and annoyed) drive into town for a box of Aziraphale's favorite pastries. 

"Would you be so kind, my love, as to do that a bit more quietly?" Aziraphale asked, the sweetness of his tone entirely insincere.

Crowley picked up a walnut. 

Aziraphale's eyes narrowed. 

Crowley placed the walnut between the arms of the simple, metal nutcracker. 

Aziraphale wordlessly, and without breaking eye contact, placed his bookmark. 

Crowley failed to notice this detail. 

The staredown continued for several seconds. 

  
  


Crowley squeezed the nutcracker,  _ slowly _ , the noise of the shattering husk somehow louder than before. 

_ CRRRRRRRRRUNCH _ .

The one thing Crowley had  _ not _ been expecting was for Aziraphale to move far faster than any non-celestial being could, snatching the demon out of his seat and backing him up against the wall between the sitting room and the kitchen. 

"My dear, will you please cease with the crunching, or will I have to shut you up myself?"

_ Huh _ , Crowley thought.  _ You can still learn something new about yourself even after being around for over six millennia _ . What he had learned, of course, was that he actually quite liked being pushed around a bit, provided it was the Angel of the Eastern Gate of Eden doing the pushing around, and a bit of non-dangerous threat here and there could actually get him well on the way to turned on. 

"I, uhmMmngk, think I might take the latter option, actually," he answered. 

Aziraphale's brows arched. Seems they're both a little surprised at themselves tonight. 

Well. Nowhere to go with  _ all that _ but forward. It would be several hours before Aziraphale returned to that book. 


	4. Cranberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes. Delicious cranberries. Gotta have em.

"Hey, so, I'm going to go out for a bit, pick up some things for dinner, won't be too long." 

"Dinner? Dear, we already got everything from the grocer this morning."

"Ahh, no, nope, we didn't, we forgot something. I'm'a go get it."

"Well what did we forget? I had a list and everything I'm quite sure we got it all-"

"Cranberries."

"Cranberries…" 

"Yep, must have garnish, can't have roast beef without them." 

"That doesn't- dear I'm quite sure the recipe didn't call for-" 

"It's, uh, a me thing. I want them. Gotta have them, I love cranberries so much, can't eat beef without them."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry my dear, I didn't realize. But it is quite late, yet, I could just miracle them up." 

"No, nope, gotta have the real thing, you know how summoned food never tastes quite the same." 

"Dearest, you've said many times I'm being picky and the taste is no different." 

"Except! For my beloved. Delicious. Favorite cranberries, I just. Love them so much, I won't be long, angel, I promise."

"Well alright, then. Mind how you go, my love."

"Yep, love you too, be back in a jiffy!"

"... since when does he say jiffy?" 

~~~~~~~

The store Crowley walked into shortly thereafter was not a grocer. No, everything for sale within this establishment usually required a downpayment at best. At higher quality, buyers often felt they were having limbs severed as partial payment. Crowley, of course, would be paying in full on receipt. His investments were still doing quite well, after all. Naturally, the kind of money Crowley had casually flaunted in this shop the last time he was in earned him VIP attention. The proprietor approached as soon as he entered, wearing quite a big you're about to pay me a lot of money grin. 

"Mister Crowley! You have excellent timing, we've just put the finishing touches on your order. I was actually just about to call and suggest you come by at your convenience-"

"Well my convenience is now, Sergei. Had a good feeling, thought I'd pop in. Can I see them?"

"Yes of course, right this way, sir."

Sergei, owner and operator of Yahontov Jewelers for three decades, was an older man with a great silvering beard, and a smile brighter than most of the gems in the shop. He led Crowley enthusiastically over to a corner of the shop outfitted with a selection of lamps offering a variety of lighting types to view jewelry pieces under. He walked to the other side of the counter and reached into a safe, pulling out a small velvet box which he handed over to Crowley with barely contained excitement. 

Crowley carefully opened the box, and couldn't stop a smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

"Sergei, you've really done it. They're perfect." 

The items, of course, were a pair of golden bands. Each inlaid in silver with a delicate design on the outside of a stylized snake curling around a feather, and on the inside the words "to the world" were engraved in that same silver. 

"I must say, I've never had engagement bands commissioned where snakes are a part of the design, but I could tell how serious you were about the design. I'm so glad they mert your expectations."

"They really do, Sergei. Let's settle up quickly, though. He's bound to get suspicious if I'm out long."

~~~~~~

Crowley entered the cottage in much the same way he left it. Attempting, and failing, to sneak. 

"There you are, dear! Good, I've gotten started on making dinner, did you get your cranberries?"

"Yep, cranberries, right here," he said, producing a small bag that he definitely hadn't been holding behind his back until a moment ago. 

"Excellent, I'll let you portion them out for yourself since I don't yet know how you like them, but here, come help me with this sauce." The angel bustled off into the kitchen, chattering on about spices and cook times, and such, and Crowley paused in the doorway to the kitchen for a moment, just to watch. He regretted that he would need to pretend to like cranberries until after he asked the question, but it would be worth it. It would all worth it. 


	5. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale knows he needs to be gentle with Crowley's heart.

A mug appeared in Crowley's field of vision, accompanied by a warmly smiling angel. 

"Cocoa, my dear?" He asked, placing the mug in the demon's hands without waiting for a response. A year ago, Crowley would have refused. A year ago, Crowley would have been too dedicated to maintaining his image, to not being a demon caught sipping hot cocoa with whip and mini marshmallows. But none of that mattered anymore, did it? 

This morning, they had driven back to London, officially ending their holiday in the South Downs. Aziraphale had spent much of the trip on the phone with the travel agent, then a real estate agent, and even briefly with the cottage's owner. Crowley thought the whole thing was overcomplicated, why not just buy it for the asking price? But Aziraphale, having quite a bit more experience with legitimately gotten real estate, was insistent on doing things the human way, with negotiations and contracts and even a mortgage. Crowley had shuddered at the thought.

But today, sitting on a couch with an impression shaped like him settled into the cushions, Crowley accepted the cocoa with an unrestrained smile that reached his uncovered eyes. 

After Aziraphale took the spot beside him, causing just enough of a dip in the cushion that Crowley couldn't help leaning into him, the demon cleared his throat and cast a meaningful glance to the cold, untouched fireplace. 

"We can start it up, angel."

Aziraphale cast a worried glance between Crowley and the fireplace. 

"Oh, my dear, no, I… I don't think that's necessary."

"It's fine, right? Fireplace is all safe and contained and all that. You can light it up." 

"Darling, last month you nearly- well, it was hardly a tea candle, dear, and I saw the look on your face before I put it out. It's too much. I don't need a fire on to enjoy your company."

"Look, angel, you've got a whole aesthetic going here, right? We're having cocoa, wearing sweater vests-"

"-which you stope from me, I'll remind you-"

"Not the point, anyway, cocoa, sweaters, tinsel, cinnamon, all we're missing is a cozy little fire. It won't hurt anything, and I'm prepared for it this time, it'll be  _ fine _ ."

Aziraphale paused, and dammit he was almost convinced but no. No, Crowley would insist and swear that he was ok, that it was fine, but if Aziraphale had learned anything about present company it was that Crowley was endlessly self-sacrificing when it came to what Aziraphale wanted. And Aziraphale was training himself to allow that a bit less. Crowley showed his love by doing things for the angel, and he would never make him stop entirely, that just wouldn't be fair. But he didn't have to let him do things that would hurt. 

Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley's cheek, his fingertips caressing the back of his demon's neck, thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. 

"My dearest love," he said, pulling Crowley across the scant few inches that remained between them to place a soft kiss on his lips, pulling back and gazing into those serpentine eyes, his heart so full of affection for everything about them from the color, to the slit pupils, to the overpowering honesty of them. "No," He kissed him again. "No, my dear. Not tonight, not yet." And he kissed him yet again to escape the heartbreaking look of relief in them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a bit of a wild week for me so I'm behind, BUT, I'm on a road trip today and am hoping I can get caught up on these on the ride!


	6. Sleigh Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has whatever genitals he feels like manifesting, Aziraphale has a touch of exhibitionism kink but doesn't ACTUALLY want to traumatize anybody.

Saint James Park was excellent this time of year. The cold drove all but the most dedicated joggers away, and they usually kept to specific routes so Aziraphale and Crowley practically had the place to themselves. Which is how they ended up with Crowley in Aziraphale's lap on their favorite bench. Crowley had snapped his fingers to change his tight jeans into a long, warm, heavy skirt and covered the seat of the bench with a layer of plush velvet to cushion his knees. Aziraphale had put on a good show of being scandalized, but his firm grip on Crowley's hips had revealed his true feelings in the matter. At present, Crowley had the angel's hands pinned to the back of the bench, their fingers interlaced, to keep him from making another attempt at reaching under the skirt. 

"What are you in the mood for, angel?" 

"My dear I will enjoy whatever you manifest, just let me-"

"Right, but what are you in the MOOD for?"

"It's- really, Crowley, I will like whatever you choose." 

"Okay, yes I know you like fucking me no matter what,-"

" ** _Crowley_** -"

"but surely you have a preference right now? It's like how you like both cheesecake and flan but sometimes you're in the mood for one or the other, or breakfast or dinner. Sometimes you want one, sometimes you want the other." 

"Those are dictated by time of day, more or less."

"So cunt for breakfast, cock for dinner, you've made my point. What time is it now, angel? I could even do something in the spirit of brunch, if you're in the mood for that."

"I'm quite certain what we are doing at this moment violates several laws on public decency, my dear." 

"All the more reason for you to hurry up and pick a set so I can get to riding your cock and we can get to dinner." 

"Blasted serpent- cunt, I want your cunt, darling, please just let me-" 

Crowley released his hands, one of which immediately went to his hip, the other diving under the skirt to find Crowley's already slick vulva. Aziraphale wasted no time pressing two fingers inside, and using his thumb to stroke Crowley's clit. 

The demon sighed in relief at the contact and grabbed the back rest of the bench with one hand to anchor himself while he rocked his hips, fucking himself on the angel's fingers. With his free hand, he quite skillfully opened the front of Aziraphale's trousers, freeing his cock and stroking it with a miraculously lubed hand. Aziraphale pulled his fingers free from Crowley's slick, just in time for his demon to line the cockhead up with his entrance and sink down into it, taking nearly the full length in one go. He moaned, loud and appreciatively, at the feeling of finally being so well filled. Aziraphale's blush deepened. 

"My dear, could you be any louder?" He asked, sounding tetchy but failing to suppress the pleased look in his eyes. Crowley raised one eyebrow and grinned, having been given a delightfully festive idea. 

"As loud as you like, angel," he answered, then snapped, and suddenly his hips were adorned with a cloth belt absolutely covered in tiny sleigh bells. They chimed, of course, in rhythm with the rocking of Crowley's hips as he rode Aziraphale's cock, and the angel in question placed a hand over his mouth to cover an amused and delighted smile, so he could feign mortification just a bit longer. 

"Someone is going to hear us, Crowley!" 

"Nah, they won't," he whispered as he grabbed Aziraphale by the hips, pulling them forward on the seat to improve the angle so he could take all of his angel. "I put up a ward before jumping you, we've got as much privacy as we do in your bed." 

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale said, adoration pouring out of him. He placed both hands on Crowley's waist and leaned up for a kiss that lasted several moments before pulling back. "Our bed, dear. It's as much yours as mine, and you do far more of the sleeping in it." He then moved one hand below Crowley's skirt again, finding the spot where they were joined and placing his thumb again on his clit, stroking it in time with Crowley's established rhythm and finally allowing himself to thrust up into his cunt, meeting Crowley in the middle with every thrust and twisting of hips. 

Aziraphale felt himself getting close to completion, and made a concentrated effort to hold off his own orgasm while doubling his work on Crowley's clit, a move he received incoherent praise for. 

Crowley threaded one hand into Aziraphale's soft curls and the other around his neck, then threw his head back, shouting his appreciation into the sky, confident in his warding spell. His muscles spasmed with his orgasm, squeezing tight around Aziraphale's cock and making his legs shake with the effort to keep going, but his angel took mercy upon him. Aziraphale grabbed a solid hold of Crowley's hips and fucked up into him with several hard thrusts, the sleigh bells on the belt jingling obscenely, bringing himself to completion inside of his love's still clenching cunt. 

For several minutes they sat unmoving, letting the aftershocks of orgasm pass. At last, Crowley lifted himself up off Aziraphale cock, slowly and carefully, and with a soft hiss for his hypersensitivity. He carefully yet efficiently tucked Aziraphale's cock away and put his pants and trousers back into place, while the angel was busy covering Crowley's face, cheeks, neck, and shoulders with kisses. 

Eventually they would head to dinner, then home, get some cocoa, and maybe go about doing some more decorating in the bookshop. But for now, they simply sat and enjoyed the open nearness of each other. 

Oh, and they kissed a lot. Full on makeout session, right there in the open, even after Crowley let the warding charm fade and they received a couple of scandalized looks from the rare jogger who thought maybe that was a bit more PDA than necessary. 


	7. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe silent nights are overrated anyway.

In over six thousand years of existence, Aziraphale had known plenty of silent nights. 

There were silent nights near the beginning when life was just getting started, when all was still and quiet, as of yet unsure of the promise of the sun's return. Those nights were fine. The whole world was exciting by daylight, so Aziraphale could tolerate a few hours of nothing while the world rested. But sometimes, these nights would be interrupted by a curious demon with wings as black as the night sky, and they would pass the dark hours talking, sharing stories of new experiences, what sand felt like between toes, how long it took to dry off after a dip in an oasis spring. These nights Aziraphale treasured silently, keeping them close and secret. Nobody had actually told him not to speak to the demons, not to share whispered stories with a being with flame red hair and gold-cut eyes, but Aziraphale knew better than to even ask. This was… hmm. Maybe not forbidden, since it hadn't been laid out as such, but it would not be looked on kindly. 

There were silent nights during war time that were silent for obvious reasons. These were the worst, they agreed. These nights were the ones Aziraphale did his best not to think about as time went on, haunting the corners of his mind when he failed to distract his mind with books or puzzles or conversation. 

There were, of course, silent nights that Aziraphale loved. Long hours spent reading tablets, then scrolls, then books and newspapers. These were some of Aziraphale's favorite silent nights. 

But tonight was not any of those, for tonight was not a silent night. All was fairly still, the couch's arm pillowing his head just right as no other couch's arm would ever consider doing, the page of his book turning considerately whenever he needed it to, the electric candles flickering in an impressive recreation of real candle-light without the risks. But these things were not what Aziraphale treasured about tonight, for you see on this night, pillowing his head on Aziraphale's chest, his arms locked into a fierce hug around the angel's middle, Crowley was snoring. It was a fairly soft snore, almost more a purr than anything, but Aziraphale was delighted by it. It was the sort of sound he found he had been missing all this time. Not that late night discussions and hours of uninterrupted reading of the past hadn't been delightful, but there was a peace in this, in having this constant proof that Crowley was here, close by and safe, his mess of red hair and incorrect limbs within reach whenever Aziraphale feels so inclined to reassure himself of his love's constant presence. 

Aziraphale decided that he would be quite alright if he never experienced another silent night. 


	8. Choir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of packing, bit of reminiscing.

It was the middle of the day, and Aziraphale had opened the shop just an hour ago, but luckily hadn't gotten any visitors yet. He usually kept things quiet in the shop, hoping the edge of stuffiness would keep sales down, but today he had put an old record of Christmas music on the gramophone. The chorale arrangements always gave him just a bit of extra pep in his step, and he felt he might need the extra but of energy if he was to finish his task by dinner time. Several sturdy boxes sat waiting to be filled in the back room, Aziraphale bringing them out one by one and placing them back in the room in a separate stack once filled. What he was filling these boxes with, of course, were his favorite books. First editions, cherished gifts, sole-existing copies- all of the books he would never even consider selling to the most stubborn of customers. It had been Crowley's idea initially, when Aziraphale had been caught up fretting over which books to bring to the cottage and which to leave in the shop, as he would need reading material at both locations. 

The bell above the bookshop door chimed, and he quickly but delicately placed the Oscar Wilde first edition he had been smiling fondly at into the box, closing it up so no customers would get any ideas. 

"Lunch time, angel?" Crowley sang from the doorway, and Aziraphale bustled out to greet him. 

"Oh yes, you are just in time my dear, I was getting peckish," he answered, following up by pulling Crowley into a quick but deeply affectionate kiss. "Did you have anywhere in mind you'd like to go?" 

"Ngh, uh, yeah, there's a new cafe a few blocks over, they're advertising all sorts of sweet and savory pastries, and I heard they've got pies, too." He paused, chanting his ear towards the gramophone. "Is that the Wells Cathedral choir?" He asked, and Aziraphale's eyebrows just about shot to his hairline. 

"Yes, one of the first recordings made of their Christmas arrangement. How did you know…? That is, they usually perform in the cathedral after all, and, er," he tapped one of Crowley's shoes meaningfully with his own. 

"Ah, well, you know, it's not so hard to hear from outside when they sing so bloody loud," he answered with a blush that he would never admit to. Aziraphale just smiled and took both if Crowley's hands, bringing them up together to place a kiss on his knuckles. 

"Would you like to hear more, my dear? Perhaps after lunch? I have more of their recordings."

"You know angel, I think I would like that," he said with a smile before taking Aziraphale's arm and leading him out the door. 


	9. Chestnuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale interrupts Crowley's snack prep, but he's not complaining.

Crowley stood in the kitchen of his flat, using it for the first and possibly last time. He worked quietly, hoping to surprise Aziraphale with a holiday snack, but knew it was only a matter of time before he was found. Aziraphale rarely slept, after all, and usually only when Crowley had him trapped on the bed or couch and he had finished his book. The angel had spent all of yesterday and most of today packing up books and other items from the shop that he wanted to relocate to the cottage, though, and Crowley was counting on the emotional exhaustion from the task keeping him asleep a little while longer. 

He managed to work like this for an hour, cutting X marks into a mound of chestnuts one by one. He had very nearly finished when a pair of warm arms wrapped around him from behind, a familiar mouth finding home at the curve of his neck. Crowley forgot about his work for a moment and enjoyed the warmth of Aziraphale's body pressed flush to his own. 

"It's the funniest thing, Crowley," Aziraphale said, and oh Crowley could hear the smirk in his voice. "Before we made love earlier, I was in the possession of a very comfortable tartan sweater. I'm quite certain I remember it landing on the back of the couch. But this morning it seems to be missing. Might you have any idea where it could have gone to?" He asked. Crowley shook his head and returned to preparing the chestnuts.

"Nah, haven't seen it. You sure you didn't vanish it back to the shop?" He said, doing his level best to ignore the hands slipping under his own sweater; one that hung low around his waist, was entirely too large for his whip-thin frame, and bore a familiar tartan pattern. He had the sleeves bunched up at his elbows to keep them from getting dirty amidst his snack preparations. 

"Quite certain, my dear," Aziraphale answered. He slid his hands along Crowley's ribcage, one going higher to trace playful circles around one of his nipples. Crowley gasped softly, leaning into the touch and pushing his rear into Aziraphale's groin. The angel's free hand pushed down, the tips of his fingers attempting to slide under Crowley's waistband. He couldn't get very far, of course, as the demon's pants were entirely too tight, so Aziraphale made quick, one-handed work of the button and zipper, pushing them down to his thighs and freeing Crowley's cock which he grasped, making him gasp and thrust into Aziraphale's miraculously lubricated hand. 

"Guh- fuck,  _ fuck _ , angel!" He stammered, earning several more neck kisses from the angel in question. 

"I do like this new sweater of yours on you, my dear," Aziraphale said conversationally, as though he wasn't rocking his own hips against Crowley's ass, controlling the thrust of his demon's hips into his steady fist. "Have you had it long?" 

"Ffffuck, ngk, nah, uh, just picked it up recently," he answered, laying his head back on Aziraphale's shoulder, then bracing his hands on the countertop and pushing his ass back hard against his love. "Need you, angel" he breathed, and who was Aziraphale to deny him? He moved with purpose, taking his free hand from toying with Crowley's nipple to free himself from his own trousers, then wasted no time pressing his already hard and slick cock into the crease of Crowley's ass and pressing his tip directly to the tight ring of his demon's hole. 

"Are you ready for me, my dear?" He asked unnecessarily, but confirming none-the-less. 

"Yes,  _ fuck, yes _ angel  _ please- _ " he begged, but was cut off as Aziraphale thrust into him all at once. Aziraphale stilled his hand on Crowley's cock, holding tight to the base of it as he thrust into him again and again, enjoying the wrecked sounds his demon made as much as his own pleasure, if not more. He moved his free hand again, this time taking a firm grip of Crowley's leg and lifting it up to give himself a better angle. Crowley  _ wailed _ , the change of angle making Aziraphale's cock press up against that sensitive spot inside him. Aziraphale began to pump his fist over the length of Crowley's cock once again, and it was all he could do to last through a few more of Aziraphale's perfectly angled thrusts before he was cumming into his angel's fist. 

Aziraphale then stepped back, pulling Crowley's hips with him and letting his leg back down. 

"Bend down, my dear," he requested, and Crowley didn't hesitate to comply. Aziraphale took hold of Crowley's hips with both hands and thrusting into him at a much more urgent pace, quickly quickly achieving his own climax inside of him, before pulling out and placing a soft kiss at the small of his back, then another on his collar when Crowley stood and turned to face him. Aziraphale's arms found their way around his demon's waist, Crowley's arms winding around his angel's neck. They stood like that for several minutes, leaning into each other, foreheads pressed together, swaying silently to the music of their settling heartbeats. 

"I suppose you can keep the sweater. I do like the way you look wearing it, my dearest," Aziraphale said at length, but Crowley just shook his head and snickered. 

"Nah, angel. Smells like you when you've been wearing it all day." 

Eventually, they would clear their mess with a gesture, and Aziraphale would help Crowley to finish preparing the roast chestnuts. But they were in no hurry, now. They had all the time in the world, after all. 


	10. Pine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is a Pine Tree in Sunglasses.

They were out for a walk again, this time back at the South Downs. The area they had wandered to was heavily wooded with a variety of trees, most barren but several evergreens brought streaks of deep green wherever they stood tall and proud. The South Downs was populated by many beautiful trees, Yew, Chestnut, Beech, Oak, and Ash being the most common. But there was only one pine. 

Aziraphale shot the occasional curious glance Crowley's way. His demon had been fidgety today, like he wanted to bring something up but wasn't sure how to go about it. He considered prodding, but as Crowley seemed to be in good spirits he figured he would let him get there when he was ready. 

Crowley, for one, was both immensely grateful for Aziraphale's patience while simultaneously wishing his angel might prod him until he asked and get it over with already. His right hand was held fast in Aziraphale's, warm and reassuring, and his left was shoved deep in his coat pocket, thumb running over the soft velvet of a tiny jewelry box. He would wear the velvet threadbare at this rate, but he needed the reassurance that the box was still there, the rings within kept safe and close for whenever the right moment presented itself. Maybe under this tree, or that one, or out on that bridge but oh Aziraphale was leading them in a other direction and Crowley worried it would be too obvious if he insisted, so he continued through their walk, heavily weighing and measuring every location on which they paused, every scene they surveyed, every tree that could be the backdrop for the question desperately attempting to leap off the tip of Crowley's tongue, clattering against his teeth over and over and over again. 

But no moment seemed right, bo tree measured up, no view of chalky hills or green yew tree or pristine creek was perfect enough for his angel. 

Aziraphale eventually grew concerned for Crowley's cold tolerance and insisted they return home, and he couldn't really argue. If he attempted to open the ring box at this point he would probably drop it, and wouldn't that just be a disaster. So they returned to the Bentley and returned to London, and Crowley held that box in his pocket for one more day. He had waited six thousand years for them to officially be on their own side, he could wait a few more hours to ask his angel this particular question. There was only one pine tree here in the South Downs, and it had been at this pining business for longer than any other tree in England. 


	11. Gold and Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's be real, we all know what this chapter is gonna be.

Oh. 

This was it, wasn't it? 

For days Crowley had been agonizing over the best spot to propose. He had considered a fancy dinner at the Ritz after encouraging Aziraphale to get whatever he liked. He had analyzed every tree and viewpoint in the south downs. He had considered the cottage itself, private and intimate and theirs. But nothing had been just right, nothing just fit, nothing had been perfect. The Ritz was too busy, the nature trails of the South Downs too impersonal, the cottage too new. He needed a spot that was fairly quiet, a spot that was personal and picturesque, a spot that was  _ theirs _ . 

And oh, in hindsight it should have been so obvious. Crowley had stepped away from Aziraphale to grab some more duck-appropriate snacks from their picnic basket on a nearby bench, and turned back to see his angel gazing, happy and content, into the water as ducks geese and swans squabbled for his attention. It was quiet this time of year. It was picturesque; not the dramatic views of the south downs, but in a personal, meaningful way. And it was theirs. Oh, it was so specifically theirs. They had been meeting here almost as long as St. James Park had existed, whether seated on benches or feeding the ducks, or taking long aimless walks along the pathways. 

Crowley stepped back into his spot to Aziraphale's left, passing the angel a handful of bird snacks as he formulated a plan on the fly, glad for his sunglasses hiding the glint of mischief that accompanied all of his  **ideas** . He waited several minutes to avoid suspicion, but the perfect opportunity presented itself in due time. There was a pair of swans that lived here, and had for quite some time. I'm fact, dear reader, these swans had lived here for quite a bit longer than they should have lived at all, but certain occult and ethereal forces had accidentally preserved them through simple fondness and forgetting how long certain animals tended to live. And right at the perfect moment, the black and white pair came floating along the far bank to the right of the supernatural beings who enjoyed them so. Crowley gestured to them lazily. 

"Oi, there's those birds you're so keen on," he said, and felt he deserved a Wahoo for keeping any semblance of a tremor from his voice. Aziraphale, as Crowley predicted and desperately hoped, turned fully, enthusiastically, to catch sight of the waterfowl. 

"Oh, how lovely! I was so hoping to see them today, they've been off for a while, tending to their own swan business, I suppose," he said, as Crowley dropped to a knee, whipped off his glasses, tucked them neatly in his pocket, and pulled a small velvet box from another pocket, opening the lid and holding the box up, angled just right to catch the setting sun's rays. If Crowley had been proud of himself a moment ago for keeping his voice steady, he was now over the fucking moon for completing the maneuver so swiftly and flawlessly. It was almost a shame Aziraphale hadn't been watching. Oh, well. Aziraphale was turning back to him, now. "What do you suppose they do when they're not here begging for-" his words cut off as his eyes failed to locate Crowley's face in the spot it had been before but quickly found him down on one knee, and Aziraphale gasped. "Oh, oh Crowley, are you- is this-" he placed one hand to his chest as though to steady his racing heart, and the other to his mouth to force himself to stop speaking and let Crowley say whatever he had prepared. His demon took a deep, steadying breath and forged on in a speech that was impressively low on his usual nervous stammering. 

"Er, Hi. Right, so, look. Angel, I know this is really a, y'know, a human thing, but so's most of what we do together, yeah? It's had almost as many meanings across the millennia as I've had hairstyles," Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley grinned, then continued, "not all of them good in both accounts, but I mean this in… nngh, y'know, the sort of current, mushy, love and commitment for as long as we both shall live meaning, or really whichever meaning you like best honestly I'm not too picky. So, you know, nnnyerh, all that to sort of get around to asking you this: Aziraphale. Would you do me the honor of marrying me, taking me as your spouse, and being the same for me?" He finished, with hardly any air left in his corporation's lungs. 

  
  


During Crowley's speech, Aziraphale had moved the hand on his chest up to join his other over his mouth as his eyes grew misty waiting for his demon to finish out of politeness, for he had known his answer from the moment he realized Crowley had gone to his knee, had known from the moment he had allowed himself to consider the possibility after their body swap, had been planning to ask the question himself actually, but as usual Crowley was just a bit faster, though never  _ too fast _ anymore. As soon as he was sure Crowley was done, that he wasn't interrupting, Aziraphale spoke. 

"Oh, my dear, my Crowley, oh," he knelt down to join him, grabbing his demon's cheeks in both hands to pull him in for a kiss, "my dear perfect demon, Crowley,  _ yes _ ! Of course!" He pulled him in for another kiss, and they spent several moments just kneeling together and snogging before Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat and pulled back. 

"The rings, we forgot- here," he pulled his arms back to himself from where they had snaked their way around Aziraphale's soft middle, to present the pair of rings for his angel's consideration. Aziraphale relented his hold on Crowley's face to take the box and examine the rings more closely than before, now noticing the subtle silver design wrapped around each gold band. He pulled both rings carefully from their seat in the box (which Crowley tucked away), and held them both on the end of his index finger, turning them both slowly to admire the craftsmanship. 

"Crowley, these are magnificent. Did you- these must be custom made, yes? Is this design entirely your own imagination?"

"Well, I had a bit of in/out from the jeweler, did some tweaking to make it fit the bands better, but mostly yeah. There's, uh, a bit on the inside, too," he pointed, and Aziraphale held one of the rings just so to view the engraving of  _ To the World _ , and the angel of the eastern gate lost final control of his tear ducts as one joyous tear fell from each eye. 

"Crowley, these are beautiful. Absolutely perfect. May I?" he asked, taking hold of Crowley's left ring finger and the smaller of the two rings. Crowley nodded. 

"Anything you like, angel" he said, and could have discorporated from the erratic pace of his heart as Aziraphale slid the ring onto its home and placed a kiss right on it as though to seal the agreement. Crowley knew if he tried to speak now it would just come out as the verbal interpretation of keysmash, so he simply bit his lip and took the larger ring from Aziraphale's right index finger, then slid it into place on his angel's left ring finger, mimicking Aziraphale's kiss of affirmation. 

Aziraphale took him by both hands then, and helped Crowley up with him as he stood, then pulled him into a tight hug. By the time they finally parted, the sun had fully set and a smattering of stars were shining in the sky above their heads. 

"Let's go home where I can kiss you properly," Aziraphale whispered, causing Crowley to flush, and they set off down the path, stopping to pick up their picnic basket before continuing on to their destination, where Aziraphale would make good on that promise. 


	12. Caroling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 12, 2019. 
> 
> Aziraphale has a choice.

A faint sound of voices lifted in song filtered through the air, muffled by the walls of the bookshop. Upstairs in the flat above, the curtains had been drawn hours ago when the sun first rose. Crowley lay in the bed, his bare skin pressed against Aziraphale from cheek to toes, his arm cast around the angel's soft middle, face pressed into the crook of Aziraphale's neck, one leg thrown lazily between his angel's knees. 

Aziraphale is conflicted. He loves carolers. Seeing them, groups of humans bustling from door to door singing holiday tunes for no reward except the occasional thanks from those who answer the door to listen, it fills him with such giddy joy. But he would have to peel Crowley off of himself, and he really doesn't want to do that. 

They've been here since they got back from the park yesterday. They've been here plenty of times since cancelling the apocalypse and would be here again for countless days to come, but today was… different. Special. They got married yesterday. Or, well, engaged probably. They would have to talk about that eventually, to determine if they would have a ceremony, if they wanted to bother with legalizing it with their human identities, whether they would remarry whenever relevant laws changed. But for now… for now, Aziraphale was quite happy at this moment marinating in the waves of love swirling throughout the room. Aziraphale was content to have his husband pressed tight to his side dozing in between bouts of lovemaking. 

He could slip out from under his demonic weighted blanket. Or, he could stay here, ensconced in Crowley's love, and wait for the carolers to come another day. They usually did, but even so, Aziraphale felt like he was making the right move by not moving at all. 


End file.
